


Unexpected

by HopeCoppice



Series: Unexpected [1]
Category: Young Dracula
Genre: Age Difference, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3918682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertrand just wanted Vlad to be able to sleep at night. He couldn't have known what his actions would bring.</p><p>Every third chapter is a little more intense than the others, either in terms of intimacy or gore, so feel free to skip those (you shouldn't miss anything too important).</p><p>Cross-posted from Fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original Author's Notes for this fanfiction read 'It's going to be a ride (albeit a short-ish one)'. Oh, how wrong I was, and how glad I am. I hope you enjoy reading this, and its sequels, as much as I've enjoyed writing them.

Vlad stirred, calling out in his sleep, and Bertrand pushed the door open to check on him.  
"Robin, I didn't mean to, I need to undo it, please be okay… Robin, Robin!" He closed the door again; he was having some kind of nightmare, that much was clear. "I miss you," came the mumbled confession from the sleeping vampire behind the door, and Bertrand knew there was something he had to do.

It had taken very little effort to worm the information he needed out of Ingrid, and less to fly to Stokely. Vlad would notice his absence, of course, but that couldn't be helped. He'd managed to find his way to the sixth-form before dawn, and was waiting for Branagh's form tutor when she arrived. It took no time at all to convince the woman to send the boy to Garside for a very important Art workshop at the end of the week, and then Bertrand was free to lurk in a shady corner until darkness fell and he could return to his own school. He didn't notice the dark haired boy sitting outside the classroom, plugged in to silent earphones.

On Friday, Bertrand woke Vlad a little earlier than the boy usually liked to wake, and warned him that he'd already been called in sick for the day.  
"Why?" Bertrand treated him to his most enigmatic – and therefore terrifying – smile.  
"I've got you a present." The reaction was not quite what he'd hoped for.  
"Oh,  _great_. Is this one going to try and kill me?" Vlad must have noticed his tutor's expression. "No offence, Bertrand. Your track record's not great."

* * *

Robin trudged up the driveway, shifting his bag higher onto his shoulder as it slipped. His train had been  _late_ , that was the story he was going to stick to. He hadn't overslept and missed it, no, it had definitely been delayed. He glanced at the piece of paper he'd jotted all the details down on. Report to the side door – well, he'd heard weirder requests, especially from arty types. And he really wanted to spend some time just drawing. If he happened to get the chance to draw someone, or something, particularly inspiring, that would be a bonus, of course.

He knocked on the side door and was greeted by a somehow familiar face, and certainly not the one he'd been expecting to see. It took him a few moments to place it.  
"Renfield! No way, is that you?"

* * *

"You've got to be kidding." Vlad could hear the boy at the door as well as Bertrand could, though, and he didn't need Bertrand to contradict his statement. "You brought  _Robin_  here? Why?"  
"You were calling for him in your sleep again the other night, while I was on guard duty. Nobody else knows, don't worry."  
"That's not the point, Bertrand! Last night I dreamt about the  _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ , are you going to bring them here too?"  
"You and this Robin clearly have some unresolved issues to work out. I am simply trying to help you do that so you can be the most efficient Grand High Vampire you can be." Vlad narrowed his eyes at his tutor and he realised he wasn't going to persuade him that easily. "I can get rid of him-"  
"No." The bare longing in his student's voice surprised him, but Vlad got himself under control quickly. "He's  _not a snack_ , Bertrand. If you so much as-"  
"I was just going to send him back to Stokely." Vlad relaxed slightly.  
"He's come all this way. I might as well see him."

Bertrand was glad he'd reached that conclusion, because it was at that moment that Renfield ushered Robin into the throne room. The tutor simply stepped backwards, into the darkest shadows, and retreated outside the door.  
 _Call me if you need me._

* * *

Robin barely noticed the tall man melting into the shadows, too busy gazing around him in wonder.  
"Wow, this place looks just like the castle inside… oh yeah." He took three steps forward and gave Vlad a shove which, since he wasn't expecting it, sent him stumbling backwards a few steps. "What the hell, man? You could have at least called or written or something."  
"I'm really sorry, Robin."  
"Yeah, well, you should be. I was a kid, I thought something horrible had happened to you. I had nightmares for months, not that I can remember much about them." Vlad frowned, but Robin wasn't going to dwell on the past. "This is so cool! It still looks like a horror film set."

Vlad smiled slightly at that, but he still looked like he was trying to make his mind up about something incredibly important.  
"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" He bit his lip. "Robin, can you keep a secret?"  
He nodded, Vlad stared intently into his eyes, and then everything slipped out of focus.

* * *

Bertrand paced the corridor outside, wondering if he'd done the right thing. What if Vlad couldn't cope with seeing his old friend? After all, he was hardly the least sensitive of vampires. And what if the breather attacked him? He could be furious at being abandoned; Bertrand could understand that, the hurt that betrayal always left behind.

"Robin, can you keep a secret?" he heard, and then there was a long silence. The unfamiliar voice of the breather was the next thing to reach his ears.  
"You  _git_. What the hell did you do that for?" There was the slight thud of a fist hitting an arm, an answering thud, and then, just as Bertrand was about to burst into the room and intervene, "This is fogging awesome. Return of the dream team, yeah? You need my help for something, right? Are you finally gonna bite me?"

Bertrand relaxed and left them to it. The breather, it seemed, was no threat.

* * *

Robin couldn't quite believe he was really hanging out with Vlad again. And Vlad was a proper vampire now, with fangs and all, though he refused to show Robin.  
"They're not  _cool_ , Robin, they're just fangs." That was a matter of opinion, but his old friend refused to be budged.

Now he was on the phone to Robin's mum.  
"No, we've got loads of room. He can stay as long as he wants, summer holidays start next week – really? Well, then, however long he wants to, really, it'd be great to have time to catch up. Lovely to talk to you too, Mrs Branagh. I'd love to, if I'm ever in Stokely. Bye!" His friend hung up the phone while he was still marvelling at how much Vlad still sounded like that fourteen year-old he'd gone to school with. And now he was a  _real vampire._  This was so cool.

* * *

Bertrand had hardly seen Vlad outside of meals and training, and both of those events saw him glued to his old friend's side. They'd been mucking about around the school all weekend, and it seemed that they'd fallen right back into their old friendship where they'd left off. Erin's nose was a bit out of joint; she'd been complaining non-stop to Ingrid about how she never saw her boyfriend any more. They seemed to forget Bertrand was still in the room during these conversations, and he just had to block it out and keep reading, or retreat to his room.

When Monday morning came, then, it was a surprise to see Vlad heading to school alone. Robin didn't emerge from the room he'd been crashing in – in a coffin, for reasons Bertrand didn't really care to examine closely – until half past ten, when Bertrand looked up from his book to find the boy blinking sleepily at him.  _Trust a teenage boy to find his way to the kitchen in times of doubt._

"Where is everyone?" He raised an eyebrow.  
"School. I would have thought you'd be there too." The breather shrugged.  
"Not my school, I'm not registered. You know that. You came to Stokely." Bertrand closed his book, finally giving the boy his full attention.  
"How do you – ah." He remembered now; the teen slouched outside Branagh's form room. It had been the boy himself. "Yes, I did." Robin nodded, still half-asleep.  
"Why did you come? Vlad says he didn't send you, but you can tell me the truth, right?" The tutor frowned.  
"He didn't send me. He would never have sent me near you."

* * *

Robin's heart skipped at that; something in the way the vampire spoke told him that Bertrand was dangerous, perhaps more dangerous than Ingrid and the Count put together.  
"Then… why?"  
"He missed you." The three simple words somehow carried a much deeper meaning; the vampire must be completely devoted to Vlad if he was prepared to come all the way to Stokely and pick up Robin just because his old friend  _missed him_. And Vlad hadn't even asked him to. They must be close. A thought struck Robin.  
"Are you two…?" He knew Vlad liked girls, he knew he was with Erin, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything going on on the side. After all, Robin liked girls too, and he wouldn't say no – where did that come from? He frowned, trying to find his lost train of thought. "Y'know, are you together?"

Bertrand laughed, a noise of surprise as much as amusement, and Robin found himself smiling along with him.  
"No. I'm just his tutor." The vampire's eyes narrowed. "Were you two ever…"  
"Nah, just mates." Robin didn't mention that he would have done more or less anything, at one point, anything Vlad wanted, especially if it meant the other boy would bite him. It was irrelevant. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "You're a vampire, right?"

* * *

Bertrand tried not to be affronted by that, really he did.  
"Yes." The boy's eyes lit up, and he found himself more curious than angry. What did the boy want from him? If it was a flight around the school, he was going to be disappointed.  
"Can I see your fangs?" Well, that was… unexpected.  
"My fangs? Why?" The breather's shoulders slumped slightly; it was clear he thought that was a 'no'.  
"Vlad won't show me his, and fangs are  _cool_. Plus Ingrid and the Count are ignoring me, they say I'm annoying."  
"Do they, now?" The dry sarcasm didn't seem to bother the boy, though, anywhere near as much as the prospect of not seeing  _real fangs_  had. So Bertrand sighed and flashed his fangs in what was  _supposed_  to be a menacing gesture.  
"That's so awesome! I wish I had proper fangs. Thanks, Bertrand." He sounded so pleased; more pleased than Vlad ever did when Bertrand showed him something far more impressive.

The tutor thought for a moment, then stood.  
"I was about to go and train. Would you like to join me?" He realised how bizarre the invitation was the moment he'd said it, and hurried to justify it. "Vlad probably wants you to be able to defend-"  
"Really? Can I?" The boy's eyes were like saucers; he obviously didn't care why Vlad's tutor wanted to train him, only that he did. Bertrand would have time to examine his own motives later.  
"Yes. Come on, I don't have all day."

* * *

Robin was sitting in the throne room, grinning at nothing, when Vlad, Erin and Ingrid came back from school.  
"Alright, Robin? Not too bored without us, I hope-" Vlad stopped talking abruptly, staring at him. "What happened to you?" Robin didn't see what the fuss was about, all of a sudden; he was just smiling, it wasn't that unusual. Well, it was pretty unusual, but not since he'd arrived at Garside and been pulled back into the vampiric world he'd always wanted to be part of.  
"Bertrand." Vlad looked him up and down again and left in a hurry. He must have remembered he had a training session, Robin supposed. Still, he could have said goodbye. Then again, that had never been Vlad's strong point. "Training. He's really good, isn't he?"

Ingrid arched a perfect eyebrow, expression turning sour.  
"We wouldn't know. He's never trained either of us." And with that damning comment on vampire sexism, she stalked out, Erin following behind her. Robin continued to grin. He felt oddly detached. Maybe he was concussed? He closed his eyes, trying to remember if he'd bashed his head on anything.

* * *

Bertrand heard Vlad come in, but he didn't really take any notice until the Chosen One grabbed him and threw him against a wall, pinning him there with his powers.  
"Did you really think I'd let you get away with it?"  
"Get away with-?" This seemed like something of an overreaction to his brief detour through the Blood Cellar earlier.  
"You brought Robin here, you know he's important to me, what makes you think you can just attack him?" Oh.  _Oh._  
"I-"  
"He's covered in bruises and judging by the goofy grin on his face he's probably got a concussion, and when I asked him what happened he just said  _you_."  
"We were  _training-_ " Vlad scoffed.  
"Yeah, right. You only train yourself and me, why would you train a breather?"  
"He's your bes-"  
"Fine, we'll ask him, shall we?" The Chosen One grabbed him and manhandled him up the stairs; Bertrand didn't resist. The sooner they got this sorted out, the sooner he could go back to working out tomorrow's training regime.

* * *

There was a crash and Robin opened his eyes to see Bertrand staggering against a table, a livid-looking Vlad turning to Robin.  
"What did he do to you?" He blinked stupidly.  
"Um, I don't know, there was some kind of chokehold, and something about-" He made a vague attempt to mimic a move Bertrand had showed him to protect his neck in a pinch, but that only seemed to make Vlad angrier and, for some reason, scared.  
"He went for your neck?" The Chosen One rounded on his tutor and Robin finally realised what this was all about.  
"We were training, mate, that's all! He was teaching me how not to get bitten!" Bertrand gave him a look as if to say  _You took your time_ , and Robin grimaced sheepishly. He really did think he might be a little concussed. Vlad looked at him suspiciously, paying particular attention to his eyes, then did the same to Bertrand before releasing his tutor from whatever strange hold he'd had over him. Robin let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

* * *

Bertrand was a little offended – and a little impressed – that Vlad had checked for hypnotism before accepting that their stories matched because they were  _true_. The Chosen One, embarrassed, mumbled an apology and stormed out, leaving his tutor and would-be victim alone. Robin stood, wincing slightly, and made his way over to where Bertrand was still leaning on the table.  
"You alright?" He frowned at the breather; why would he worry about the much stronger, sturdier vampire?  
"Fine." Now that he looked at the boy, he  _was_  quite bruised. He'd forgotten how easily breathers turned purple. "Are you?" Robin looked surprised.  
"Yeah, 'course. Sorry I got you in trouble." Bertrand shook his head; it was Vlad who'd overreacted. He usually wouldn't blame Vlad for anything, but he supposed being thrown around for no apparent reason could dent a vampire's loyalty for a little while.  
"You should have told me I was pushing you too hard."  
"You weren't! It was awesome!"  
"You're bruised. You should have told me you were hurt." Robin shrugged.  
"Yeah, well, I'll tell you tomorrow, okay?"

Bertrand nodded, turning to leave, then stopped.  
"Tomorrow? What makes you think we'll be training tomorrow?"  
"Can we?" Robin grinned. "Besides, if I sneak up and attack you, you won't have a choice."  
" _Don't_  sneak up on me." The breather shrank back a little at his tone. "But yes. We can train."


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Tuesday, Robin was up before Vlad was, and found himself joining Bertrand as he ate breakfast.  
"You're up early." He grinned at the vampire.  
"The early bird catches the worm and all that. Only… I don't know, something more vampiric." Bertrand seemed amused by that; the corner of his mouth twitched up into something approaching a smile.  
"You really are obsessed with us, aren't you?" He nodded eagerly and the vampire continued. "Well, if you're interested, vampires tend to say that the early bat catches the blood. And of course we mean early evening." Robin could feel his whole face lighting up and knew he must look like a total idiot, but he didn't really care. This was amazing, a vampire – a vampire drinking real blood, no less – was really taking the time to explain things and indulge his enthusiasm in a way nobody ever had. Even Vlad had only answered his questions reluctantly.  
"The early bat, that's so cool. There must be loads of vampire sayings, can you tell me some more?" Bertrand seemed a little bemused, but he obliged with all the old vampire proverbs that sprung to mind. By the time they left the kitchen to go and train, everyone else was at school again.

* * *

Bertrand had been more careful this time, but Robin was still covered in dust from the floor by the time he called a halt to the session and Bertrand was fairly sure there would be new bruises coming up soon. The boy didn't seem to mind; on the contrary, he complained when Bertrand told him they had to stop.  
"Can't we just practice that last thing one more time-?"  
"No. Go and clean yourself up before Vlad comes home and sees you."  
"He won't be back for hours yet-"  
"I don't care. Training's over." If he pushed himself any further, he'd hurt himself and then Bertrand would be in trouble again.

The boy sloped off, but as Bertrand settled in the throne room later he popped up again, in a new change of clothes and clearly fresh out of the shower. He didn't look up from his book.  
"Something you wanted?" Robin was no doubt grinning, as usual.  
"Can you tell me some stories?" He closed the book and looked up at him.  
"This isn't a story; it's just a book on vampire laws."  
" _Cool_! But I meant… well, you've been around a bit, right?" It took a moment for Bertrand to realise he was referring to his age and not making an assumption about his promiscuity. He nodded warily. "So you must have some stories to tell. What's it like, being a vampire? Have you ever met anyone famous and, like, historical?"

* * *

Vlad came in that day and dragged Robin straight off to his room to read comics. After a few hours, though, they'd run out of comics  _and_  things to talk about. After all, there was only so long you could spend talking about how little everything had changed, and how much some things  _had_  when you really thought about it. Then Erin had turned up, looking for Vlad, and Robin had been almost grateful for the excuse to leave Vlad to it. Judging by the look on the slayer's face, he was abandoning his friend to a fate worse than staking, but it wasn't as if Robin being in the room was  _helping_.

Instead, he found himself lying in his own borrowed coffin – still  _so_ cool – and pondering all the fascinating things Bertrand had taught him. He was enjoying spending time with the older vampire and, unusually, the tutor didn't seem to have got annoyed with him yet. He hoped they could keep training tomorrow.

* * *

Bertrand had been training the boy for two weeks now; he'd expected him to stop bothering the moment Vlad and the others broke up from school, but he was still there, sometimes attending Vlad's sessions and sometimes arriving alone.

Today, he had turned up  _to_  one of Vlad's sessions without Vlad, and Bertrand was irritated. The Chosen One had apparently taken off without a word to anyone last night, taking the slayer with him. Well, that was fine; he could no doubt look after himself for a day. Still, he could have let Bertrand know. He told Robin to come back in an hour, hoping that would give him time to work off his frustration enough to not risk injuring the boy. Robin, however, just looked at him.  
"You're angry." Bertrand held in a hiss with difficulty.  
"Yes, I am. Leave." Robin hesitated for a moment, then patted Bertrand's arm as he passed.  
"Don't overdo it, yeah? I'll be back in an hour."

He stared after him long after he heard him reach the top of the stairs. What on earth did the breather think he was playing at, treating Bertrand like a person, a normal person, with weaknesses like everyone else? It was getting under Bertrand's skin; it felt  _nice_. And Bertrand wasn't one for niceties. He lashed out at the punch bag, at first with his bare hands. After a few minutes he picked up his stick, enjoying the reassuring solidity of the weapon as it struck its target.

Robin Branagh, breather and best friend of the Chosen One, could not be allowed to get under his skin. It wasn't right. He had no idea why he was still allowing the boy to even talk to him, let alone train with him, but he didn't want to stop him doing so. For the last few days, he'd been putting far more effort into Robin's training than Vlad's, which, he reasoned, made sense. After all, he had only a few more days to train Robin, and then the boy would be alone in Stokely with nobody to protect him. This, of course, did not answer the rather important question of why he should  _care_ , but it was a good enough reason to be going on with, and really what did it-

"Wow."

* * *

Robin knew Bertrand was cross with Vlad, not him, and he'd respected the tutor's request for space without really knowing why. If Vlad had told him to leave, he probably would have stuck around and argued, but Bertrand had seemed so barely in control of himself that it seemed cruel to force that restraint on him for any longer. Robin had noticed that he often seemed to be trying to hold himself back from something when the two of them were together. He supposed it was to do with his blood; the way temptation flowed in a tantalising stream just below his skin, calling to Bertrand with every heartbeat.

That didn't explain why Robin was having to guard  _himself_  around the vampire. He was terrified that he would slip up at any moment, and Bertrand would realise that he wasn't really here just for Vlad anymore. They were still friends, of course – they always would be, best friends - but something had shifted between them with the mind wipe and it had never quite shifted back. Robin had to admit, if only to himself, that he probably wouldn't have stayed for two and a half weeks if Vlad had been the only attraction at Garside.

Attraction was the wrong word, he thought – it implied that he was, well,  _attracted_  to someone. And he wasn't. That wasn't what was going on here, of course it wasn't. He was just excited to have a vampire friend – if you could call Bertrand a friend – who actually  _liked_  being a vampire, who seemed to enjoy showing off to Robin about it.

Speaking of showing off, as he walked into the training room again, the allotted hour having passed, he found Bertrand relentlessly beating the punch bag with a stick. The description didn't do it justice; the power behind each blow, the precision, the grace of Bertrand's movements as he swung the weapon in perfect, flawless, flowing arcs; Robin could have stood and watched him all day.

"Wow." It was all he could say.

* * *

Bertrand turned to the doorway; had it been an hour already? He was still a little annoyed with Vlad, but he thought he could probably be trusted with Robin again. Was 'probably' enough? But Robin was talking again, words tumbling from his lips as if he couldn't control them.

"That's amazing. Can you teach me how to do that? That was… so cool, beautiful." The breather's eyes widened – he heard his breath catch, the slight increase in his heartbeat. Then Robin stepped forward, eyes never leaving Bertrand's. "Beautiful." The vampire closed his eyes for a moment, putting all his observations together and coming up with a conclusion. He didn't have to ask; Robin wasn't finished. If he hadn't been expecting the warm hand at his elbow, he would have thrown the boy across the room, but he let it stay, listening as the boy continued. "I've been an  _idiot_ … You're amazing, Bertrand. Like, properly amazing. And I think… yeah, I fancy you." He sounded surprised, apologetic… above all, he sounded sincere.

Bertrand opened his eyes for a moment, taking in the sight of the boy before him. Pale, with dark hair, dark eyes, and dark clothing… he could almost be a vampire himself, except for the scent. Yet Bertrand wasn't thinking about blood, or biting, or even training. All he could think of was Robin.

"It's just because I'm a vampire," he argued softly, reminding himself as much as the breather. But the boy only laughed, reading his emotions in a way Bertrand had thought he'd made impossible years ago. Then again, people didn't usually look deep into his eyes like that.  
"Bertrand, look around. I'm surrounded by vampires. This is  _you_." Then the warm hand on his elbow ran up his arm to cup his cheek, and Robin was silently asking for permission, and Bertrand realised that if this was going to happen, he needed some control over it.

In the end, they both leant in together.


	3. Chapter 3

Robin thought, for a moment, that Bertrand was going to push him away. The vampire hesitated, face mere inches from Robin's, and it took a moment for Robin to realise that  _of course_  Bertrand wasn't breathing, but that didn't mean anything about his feelings. He was about to back off, drop his hand and hope Bertrand was prepared to pretend this had never happened, but then the vampire's tongue slipped out to moisten his lips and Robin found he couldn't tear his eyes away. Bertrand put a hand on his arm as if to steady them both, then nodded slightly, as if to himself. He'd barely moved before Robin surged forward to crush their lips together.

It was a little clumsy, if Robin was honest – he hadn't kissed  _that_  many people, and he wasn't a hundred per cent sure he'd been doing it right, but then Bertrand's grip on his arm tightened fractionally as he tried to pull back, and only the knowledge that he needed to remember to breathe convinced him to continue the motion, pulling himself away for just a split second to make sure he was still alive. Part of him didn't believe that this could actually be happening; he'd been, well,  _appreciating_  Bertrand for the last couple of weeks, but he'd never thought this situation would occur.

Bertrand's eyes flew open, still close enough for his eyelashes to brush Robin's skin and alert him to the fact, and he met Bertrand's panicked look with a tiny, hopeful smile before leaning back in to reclaim his cold lips. Before he knew it, strong arms were wrapped right around him and oh, Robin thought this might be the best training session he'd ever had, already.

* * *

Bertrand couldn't quite believe it when Robin finally closed the distance, but it seemed like no time at all passed before the boy pulled back and he clung to him desperately, reluctant to lose this fleeting moment of contact that made him feel almost alive. Still, the breather pulled away with a little gasp and Bertrand opened his eyes, expecting to see horror, revulsion… maybe even anger. What he wasn't expecting was for Robin to give him a nervous grin and come right back for more.

This time he allowed himself to really enjoy the moment, no longer afraid of the rejection he'd been sure would come the moment Robin remembered he was technically undead. Thinking about it – and thinking about anything was proving a struggle with the boy pressed so tightly against him – he should have known better; Robin loved vampires. Apparently he had a favourite, now. He wasn't really aware of deepening the kiss until Robin let out a stifled moan and he pulled back, afraid that he'd hurt him somehow.

The boy's attempts to get closer to him again, however, suggested that he may have misinterpreted the noise, and he experimentally pressed their lips together again, surprised when Robin immediately offered his tongue access. Bertrand knew that they were going to have to talk about this at some point; some serious thinking was required and they would need to discuss what exactly Robin thought he was doing, getting mixed up with someone like him.

For now, though, Bertrand was going to enjoy kissing someone who wouldn't recoil when they realised who he was.


	4. Chapter 4

Kissing Bertrand didn't get any less intense and wonderful the more he did it. His mother had been thrilled to hear that Robin was getting into sport, and had insisted that he stay away for as long as he was welcome at Garside. He hadn't mentioned, during that phone call, that his four-hundred-year old personal trainer was a major part of the attraction.

Vlad had noticed their increased training time on his return with Erin, but the slayer had managed to persuade him that this was a good thing; it gave him more time to spend with her, after all. They'd only been back a couple of days – their escape had been a one-day affair – and Bertrand gave Robin a  _Look_  every time he opened his mouth to talk to them. He always relaxed when Robin managed to avoid revealing their new… well, whatever it was… but the glares he obviously meant to be intimidating were so full of fear that he was amazed nobody else could see how terrified Bertrand clearly was.

He was in no hurry to tell Vlad about this thing with Bertrand anyway; they hadn't even really talked about it yet. He'd meant to start the conversation at some point, but they'd had training to do and… well… Robin was a seventeen-year old boy. Given the chance to choose between having an in-depth conversation and snogging Bertrand until he saw stars, well, there was no choice, was there, really?

* * *

Robin had managed to keep things quiet about them so far. That was good, because Bertrand knew he'd be expected to explain himself once the rest of the household found out what they were doing, and he didn't know how to  _begin_  to explain. He didn't understand himself at all.

The boy was a  _breather_ , for blood's sake. If he was going to kiss a bloodbag at all, it should have ended in fangs, but… they were still all over each other for a substantial proportion of the time Bertrand set aside for training together. If the vampire was confused about why he was so keen to kiss Robin, it was nothing compared to his confusion about the boy's willingness to reciprocate. It was all he could do to get him to train, sometimes – although once he knuckled down, Robin was a very determined student.

He didn't want to ask, though, didn't want to shatter the fragile understanding between them. Only when he opened his eyes, pulling away from another scorching training-room kiss, and realised that Robin could see right through him – only then did he finally abandon the pretence and start the conversation he knew needed to happen.  
"What are we doing, Robin?" The breather sighed; it seemed he'd been dreading it just as much as the vampire had.  
"I'm kissing you, and you're kissing me back, and we're both enjoying it, right?" Bertrand nodded, but then the question he'd been hoping to hold back slipped out unbidden.  
"Why?"

* * *

Robin frowned, eyes boring into Bertrand's, surprised by the vulnerability he found there.  
"Why do I like kissing you?" The tutor was looking away, eyes suddenly anywhere but on Robin, and that wouldn't do. Robin reached up and caught his chin, making the vampire focus on him. "Because it's just the beginning, because hopefully it means something more than just some random snogging, because I want to be with you. You're the only person who takes me seriously half the time, and you make me happy. That a good enough reason?" It seemed not.  
"I'm a vampire; I've killed a lot of people, I've slain a lot of vampires. You shouldn't be-"  
"Don't you want this, Bertrand?" Was that what it was? "You can tell me, it's alright."  
"I do want this." It was a quiet admission, as if the vampire didn't want to acknowledge it. "But you shouldn't." Robin rolled his eyes.  
"Well, I do. So let's just roll with it, yeah?" Bertrand nodded slightly. "So are we, like, going out?" The tutor looked a little confused, to be honest.  
"Is that what you want this to be?"  
"Yeah, I mean… if you do." He wasn't going to throw away the casual snogging just because he'd rather have a relationship, but if he could have both…  
"Then yes. I think that would be best."

* * *

Robin stared at him for a moment, and Bertrand wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. Should he have been less cautious about agreeing to this insane relationship? Should he, indeed, have refused to let the boy get so attached?  
"Really?" He nodded; there was nothing to be gained by changing his answer now, after all. Then Robin threw himself at him, and he realised he didn't want to change it at all. This was good, this was what he wanted. And Robin, for reasons best known to himself, seemed to want it too. He gave up trying to understand and gave in to the breather. No, wait, he might not quite understand what was going on here but he was still the older partner and moreover the vampire, and he wasn't going to let Robin push him around as he was trying to at this very moment. He spun them round, pushing Robin up against the wall he'd been backing Bertrand towards, and took control of the kiss, vaguely aware that in about a quarter of an hour he had a training session with Vlad and they would have to stop-

"What's going on?" Apparently, a quarter of an hour had gone by faster than he'd thought.

* * *

Robin's eyes flew open and he peered over Bertrand's shoulder, shocked by the sudden appearance of his oldest friend.  
"Vlad! We, um, we were just-"  
"Bertrand, get out of here. Wait for me in the kitchen.  ** _Now._** " He spoke with the authority of the Chosen One and Bertrand looked apologetic as he squeezed his hand and left. Robin watched him all the way to the door; well, he was still a teenage boy, after all.

Vlad rounded on him the moment the door closed, clicking his fingers in front of his face, looking as if he didn't know whether to be furious or concerned.  
"What the hell was that? How could you let him do that? I thought the whole point of this training was learning not to get-"  
"Not to get bitten, and I didn't did I?" Vlad stared at him, horrified.  
"You weren't even hypnotised, were you?" That did it; Robin wasn't having anyone judge them like that, not even his best friend, not even the Chosen One of all the vampires.  
"No, I was just snogging my  _boyfriend_  of my own free will, funnily enough. Got a problem with that?"

Vlad looked aghast.  
"Robin, you don't know him, you don't know what he's done – he's a killer, vampires and breathers, he's not-"  
"He'd never hurt me."  
"How can you be sure?" Vlad closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, unnecessary breath. "You need to go home. Clearly it isn't safe for you to be here."  
"What-?"  
"RENFIELD!"  
"What, no, you can't just kick me out-" Vlad's expression was cold.  
"Actually, I can." Then his eyes turned yellow and everything slipped out of focus.


	5. Chapter 5

Vlad found Bertrand sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands. He leapt to his feet when Vlad walked in.  
"It's not Robin's fault-"  
"Oh, I know." Vlad kept his tone light, and that was when Bertrand realised just how angry the boy was. Vlad's casual tone of voice was one of the most terrifying weapons in his arsenal, the mere fact of _being the Chosen One_  notwithstanding. "Which is why I want to know what the  _blood_  and  _garlic_  you thought you were doing."  
"It wasn't just-"

"Do you know how close you were to his neck, Bertrand?" The raw emotion in Vlad's voice surprised him. "Of course you do, you'd have been able to hear his heart pounding. It would have been so easy, wouldn't it, to just slip and bite him? If I hadn't walked in-"  
"I would never-"  
"I bet you said that about every breather you've ever seduced. How many of them lived to walk away?" Bertrand faltered mid-retort; Vlad was right. He should never have gone near Robin. He'd put the boy in danger just because he wanted him so much.

"I should talk to him, explain… that this has to end." Vlad shook his head.  
"I told him everything. He's gone back to Stokely, where he's safe. Don't follow him." Then the Chosen One was gone, and Bertrand slumped back into his seat, all the artificial warmth he'd felt when he was with Robin draining away and leaving him feeling colder than he ever had.

* * *

Robin wandered back towards his house from the train station, barely glancing at the hearse that had dropped him there as it drove away. He wanted to go home, that was all he could remember; he'd had fun with Vlad, but he'd missed his family. There was nothing more to it than that.

They were surprised to see him, but his mum quickly pulled another plate from the cupboard and loaded it with food and before long it was as if he'd never been away. His dad asked about his new kickboxing hobby, and Robin frowned at him; kickboxing was hardly his kind of thing.

It wasn't until dinner was over, and night had fallen, that he heard a tap on his bedroom window. He grinned, seeing his old friend perched on the sill.  
"Miss me already? Come in, mate." Vlad sighed and, reluctantly, snapped his fingers. Suddenly, everything came back – of  _course_  they'd asked about kickboxing – and he wasn't even aware of moving until Vlad reeled backwards, clutching his face. "You hypnotised me again!"  
"I had to, you weren't going to leave-"  
"Some friend you are."  
"Robin, look, I needed to talk to you. Away from the school. I'm sorry for what I did, but… we need to talk."

He didn't seem to be joking. Robin flopped onto his bed and folded his arms.  
"So talk."

* * *

Bertrand stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, trying not to think of Robin. Robin, who would usually be sleeping just three floors above him; Robin, who'd slipped past his defences; Robin, who hadn't seemed to care what he'd done in the past; Robin, who was  _gone_.

He hadn't thought the boy would just leave like that – true, he'd only known him for two weeks, but he'd seemed so sincere in his enthusiasm for all things vampiric, for all Bertrand's stories. Clearly, though, he'd thought he was exaggerating, as vampires were wont to do. Now Vlad had confirmed their truth, and the boy couldn't get away from him fast enough.

He couldn't help resenting the Chosen One a little, though – he'd even got Bertrand's book in the end, the one important, valuable thing he'd ever really had – was it asking so much to hope that he might leave him Robin? But he was right, he was right about everything. Bertrand was a blood addict; he knew this. Just because he'd never even considered biting the boy, despite his delicious scent, well, that didn't mean he wouldn't snap. He had taken an unacceptable risk with Robin's safety and Vlad had every right to be furious with him.

He did, however, bristle a little at the memory of Vlad's earlier accusation. He hadn't just been using Robin's hormones to get at his neck; he hadn't been planning to use the excuse of a makeout session turned tragedy when he inevitably sank his fangs in. He just hadn't  _thought_  – no, that wasn't right – hadn't  _listened_  to the little voice in the back of his head saying 'this isn't safe'.

And that had cost him Robin.

* * *

"Vlad, I knew all that stuff." The Chosen One gaped at him and Robin realised he was going to have to elaborate. "That first week, when you were all at school, I asked Bertrand to tell me stories about what he'd done in his unlife. He told me all those; I knew. He's a vampire, I knew he was going to have a bit of a dodgy past."

Vlad had just reeled off a long list of bloody, dusty escapades involving his tutor, and Robin could tell that the fact he hadn't batted an eyelid was somewhat disturbing to Vlad.  
"A  _bit dodgy_? Robin, he could kill you at any moment."  
"Yeah, but he hasn't, has he? He's had weeks." Vlad shook his head.  
"Even if you're crazy enough to risk your life, if he bites you he breaks the truce. Did you consider that?"  
"He won't break the truce. He's not an idiot."

The vampire sighed.  
" _You're_  being an idiot." Robin grinned at his friend, ignoring the Chosen One's weary expression.  
"Yeah, but I always am. So, back to your place, yeah?" Vlad raised an eyebrow, heading for the window.  
"Yeah, sure, see you tomorrow. Where was it, again?" Then he was a bat, and then he was gone, and Robin wasn't even impressed by the trick because he was too busy frowning down at his duvet.

_Where did Vlad live?_

* * *

Bertrand swallowed the pain in his heart – his  _cold, unbeating, unfeeling_  heart, he reminded himself – and threw all his energy into training Vlad, who reacted as if he was being punished in some way. Well, there might have been an element of that involved, he supposed. Mostly, however, he had nobody else to train and nothing else to do with his unlife, so he was going to push the Chosen One harder than ever.

It took four days for Vlad to get bored of flying and fighting and demand that they work on something more intellectual. Bertrand suspected that what he actually meant was that he needed to sit down.  
"Fine. Telepathy then." He handed Vlad a walkie-talkie and a deck of picture cards, then strode off with another towards the other end of the school.

Vlad's training had come on in leaps and bounds in every other respect, but it seemed like he still couldn't get a grip on telepathy. It had been ten minutes now and all Bertrand was getting was a vague sense of guilt he was pretty sure was rolling off of the young vampire's brain.  
"Focus, Vlad," he spoke into the walkie-talkie, "think of nothing but-"

 _"What, no - you can't just kick me out-" That was Robin, looking indignant._  
_"Actually, I can." Vlad's voice responded, and then the scene around the breather changed._  
_"You hypnotised me again!"_  
 _"If he bites you, he breaks the truce."_  
 _"Back to your place, yeah?"_  
 _"Where was it, again?"_  
 _"I knew all that stuff. He's a vampire, I knew he was going to have a bit of a dodgy past."_

Bertrand clung to the sight of Robin, even in Vlad's mind, for as long as he could, but Vlad's own thoughts were breaking through, chasing away the image of the angry breather.  
_Maybe I shouldn't have done it, but I can't risk the truce, and I can't risk Robin's safety like that. He's too obsessed with vampires to realise the danger he's in. I did the right thing, I kept him safe. And Bertrand doesn't seem too bothered, so in the long run I've probably spared him more heartbreak. He'll forgive me eventually, he'll realise he and Bertrand couldn't really be together…_

Bertrand pulled himself away from Vlad's thoughts with difficulty, mind racing. After a moment, he picked up the walkie-talkie, which he'd allowed to slip into his lap.  
"He didn't want to go?" Vlad's reply was somewhat delayed.  
"…Bertrand, you know it's not safe." His tutor glanced out of the window, checking that it was in fact as dark as he'd thought it was, and then made his way sedately to the courtyard before taking off towards Stokely.

* * *

Robin had tried his best to find that missing memory; he'd got online and searched for schools with a Mr Count as their Chairman of Governors, but it turned out that was a bit of a vague search term. He'd wondered if Bertrand would come and find him; after a couple of nights, he'd wondered why he hadn't, and only hoped he was alright. Vlad wouldn't have sunk so low as to stake him, surely? He  _hadn't_ broken the truce, after all… no, it was much more likely that Bertrand had just decided he wasn't worth all the trouble, that he didn't want to see him again after all.

He'd thrown himself into as close an approximation of Bertrand's training regime as he could remember – his father watching approvingly from the window as he actually  _went outside_  to get enough space to train – and was doing his best to ignore the laughter of the local kids as he hit a tree with a stick. They stopped laughing when he moved away from the tree and began practicing more freeform self-defence moves; Bertrand was a good teacher and Robin cut something of an imposing figure, running through his routine in the park. He collapsed into bed each night – his bed was too comfortable, now, now he'd tried a coffin and knew how awesome they were – and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

One night, he woke to hear a soft 'thump' against the glass of his window. Then another. Then another. He sat up in time to see a fourth lump of dirt splatter, and hurried over to see what was going on.

Bertrand was standing in his garden, peering anxiously up at him. Robin raced down the stairs as quietly as he could.

* * *

Bertrand wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he was too surprised to do more than let out a soft 'oomph' noise when Robin suddenly collided with him, wrapping his arms around him. The boy seemed to suddenly come to his senses, and stepped backwards looking sheepish.  
"Didn't think you were actually gonna show up."  
"You remember me?" He'd assumed Vlad would have wiped his memory. "I thought Vlad-"  
"He did. Hypnotised me into coming home. But then he came round and made me remember you. The only thing I couldn't remember was where you were."

Bertrand frowned, mirroring the expression on the breather's face.  
"Then you remember what he told you, that I'm not safe to be around. He's right, Robin-"  
"I remember  _you_  telling me all that stuff the first time I bugged you for stories. D'you remember what I said then, or did he mind wipe you too?" Bertrand smiled then; he remembered.  
"You said ' _Cool!_ '"

* * *

Robin reached up and reminded himself just what Bertrand's lips tasted like. No, there was no way he could ever have forgotten that. Bertrand made as if to pull away after a few moments, but Robin tangled his hands into his hair and refused to allow it. When, finally, he let him go, he was breathless and Bertrand seemed much less agitated than he had been, his own hand running through Robin's hair as his clear blue eyes bored into him.  
"You make it really hard to break up with you." Robin frowned; was that what he'd come here to do?  
"You're-?"  
"No." Bertrand shook his head. "No, I'm not. I should, but if you really want to take the risk… I owe it to you to respect your decision." He glanced over his shoulder and grimaced. "Actually… I need a favour."

Robin felt that as favours went, hiding Bertrand in his room for the day wasn't too much of a hardship. He told his family he was tired after overdoing it on his training the day before and they believed him without question, allowing him to spend the day in his room without being disturbed. Bertrand, who he'd very specifically invited into his room and only his room – the older vampire had insisted – hovered anxiously near the closed curtains as Robin sprawled across his bed.  
"Come and join me?"

* * *

Bertrand hesitated; sharing a bed – a single bed at that – was something he hadn't done in longer than he cared to recall, even in the most innocent sense. It had such intimate connotations, and honestly, he was a little afraid that Robin's teenage hormones would get the better of them both. Robin, as usual, seemed to read his mind.  
"You're tired, I'm lazy, we might as well get comfortable. Nothing more to it, B, I promise." Bertrand raised an eyebrow.  
"B?" Robin held out a hand and he crossed the room to take it, allowing himself to be dragged down to perch on the edge of the bed.  
"Can I call you B? It's just  _everyone_  calls you Bertrand." Apparently they were at the name-shortening stage now. Well, B wasn't as bad as some of the alternative shortenings he could think of.  
"You can call me B, yes, if you must."  
"Great!" Robin didn't seem put off by his lack of obvious enthusiasm. "Now lie down, 'cos I can't be bothered to sit up and kiss you."


	6. Chapter 6

It was strange, lying beside someone. The bed was narrow, forcing cold body and warm to press close together, and what started with lips and tongues soon spread to their hands. Arms wrapped tightly around each other, they had little choice but to be closer than they'd ever dared to be before, and soon Bertrand could feel warm hands moving under the back of his shirt. He concentrated very hard on not reacting to the touch, on not moving the fabric of Robin's top aside and making him shiver with his own cold hands.

The breather ran one hand around to rest between them, still underneath Bertrand's shirt, and Bertrand tensed for a moment; there were scars there, scars he'd kept hidden and covered for centuries. But Robin just drew back for a moment, catching a ragged breath as he traced Bertrand's muscles, trailing heat across his skin.  
"This OK?"

* * *

Bertrand was nodding, and Robin pretended not to notice the strange indentations in his boyfriend's skin as he admired the definition of his muscles. He could tell from the way the vampire had tensed that he wasn't particularly proud of the scars, and he intended to fix that, but right now they'd covered enough new ground. He returned his hand to Bertrand's back, still adjusting to the unnatural coolness of his skin, wondering if Bertrand  _felt_ cold.

The vampire didn't touch him back, didn't make any attempt to slide his hands under the thin fabric of Robin's pyjama top ( _Nightmare Before Christmas_ themed, a present from Chloe), and Robin wondered why not. He wriggled slightly, causing his top to ride up slightly on its own, and tried to ignore the effect his proximity to Bertrand while he executed that little move was having on them both. There was an awkward moment in which neither of them moved; then Bertrand's thumb brushed across the tiny section of exposed skin at Robin's waist, making him gasp with the cold. He moved one of his hands to curl his fingers into Bertrand's hair, letting him know it was a good kind of cold, and breathed a deep sigh of relief when Bertrand repeated the gentle stroking motion before kissing him again.


	7. Chapter 7

Later, they curled into one another and fell asleep, not wanting to let go for even a second after their enforced separation. When they woke in the evening, Robin slipped downstairs to tell his parents there was a kickboxing competition on at Garside – Bertrand had supplied him with the name – and that he was going to get an overnight train back to go to it.

He'd assumed he really would be getting the train, but when he made it to the end of the road he found Bertrand waiting for him.  
"Thought you might prefer to fly." He grinned at his boyfriend, hardly daring to believe that.  
"You can do that? With me, I mean?" Bertrand simply held out his arms for Robin to step into, and almost before Robin could register the warmth of Bertrand's cape around him, they were coming to a halt in the courtyard of Garside Grange.

"That's the coolest thing ever!" Bertrand allowed himself a soft smile.  
"Go to the training room and wait for me there. Alright? I need to talk to Vlad." Robin frowned, but Bertrand's eyes were determined and he knew there was no sense arguing. He made his way down to Bertrand's domain and settled in to wait.

* * *

Vlad was in the throne room, waiting for him, as he'd expected.  
"You brought him back, I assume?" Bertrand nodded curtly.  
"He wanted to come. It's his choice." Vlad sighed, looking more tired than Bertrand had seen him in a while.  
"Fine. But Bertrand, if anything happens to him, you  _will_  regret it."  
"If anything happens to Robin, I'll fetch you a stake myself." The Chosen One frowned at him.  
"You really do care about him, don't you? This isn't just another power play."  
"No. It's not. But how kind of you to let me know what you think of me."  
"Don't be like that, Bertrand. I just… with Sethius and everything. I can't afford to underestimate you again." Bertrand frowned at the back-handed compliment.  
"It's not a power play. No training tonight." Vlad nodded.  
"Tell him I'm sorry, too."

When he reached the training room, he found Robin pacing worriedly.  
"What's wrong?" Had the boy finally come to his senses and realised the danger he was in?  
"Did he say I could stay?" He nodded, surprised again by the relieved grin on Robin's face. He sat against the wall and waited for the breather to join him.  
"He also warned me that if anything happens to you, I won't like the consequences." The boy's face darkened and Bertrand ran a hand down his cheek, marvelling at the warmth of his pale skin. "He really does care about you, you know." Robin shrugged.  
"Yeah, we're mates. He's not my mother."

Bertrand frowned slightly, but it was a peaceful expression.  
"What would she say if she knew about this?"  
"Mum?" Robin had to think about it. "Depends, are we talking with or without the vampire bit? 'Cos if she knew you were a vampire she'd definitely pass out."  
"Without that, then." Robin shrugged.  
"Dunno, she'd probably take a while to get her head round it but I don't think she'd mind. Ian and Paul wouldn't even be surprised, they've been making jokes for years. And I reckon you and Chloe would get along, you're both clever."  
"I'm a little older than you, even just based on appearance." Robin rolled his eyes, leant in and kissed him.

* * *

When he pulled away, Bertrand knew he was grinning, and Robin's lips quirked up into a reflection of the expression.  
"Not when you smile like that." He couldn't exactly check a mirror; he would have to take Robin's word for it. He forced his face back into its normal, neutral expression with great difficulty.  
"Like what?" Robin blinked at him, then licked his lips.  
"You're sneaky. Good thing you're pretty enough to get away with it." Then he played right into Bertrand's hands, kissing that smile right back onto his face.

Eventually, Bertrand demanded that Robin show him what progress his own independent training had produced, and Robin dutifully demonstrated what he'd been doing in the park. Bertrand was impressed; he'd really been paying attention. A couple of his stances were slightly off but all in all he'd done a good job of keeping himself in shape. If only Vlad was so diligent.

* * *

Robin could tell Bertrand was impressed; and so he should be. Robin had worked really hard. The older vampire got up and stood behind him, reaching to reposition his hands as necessary, watching him run through the whole sequence again. Then he stepped backwards, and Robin was surprised by the sudden sensation of loss.  
"Think you're ready for some more sparring practice?" He nodded, assuming a defensive stance, and Bertrand shook his head.  
"No, you try attacking me." Robin raised an eyebrow; he'd been warned not to do that enough times. "I'm ready, I won't hurt you." So Robin charged at him… and found himself on the floor. Bertrand reached out a hand to help him up.  
"Go on, what did I do wrong?" Bertrand smiled indulgently and showed him a better way to attack.  
"There. Now try it again."

He didn't stand a chance of winning against Bertrand in a fight, of course, but as they switched back to working on his defence a few minutes later he found he was managing to hold his own against the vampire. He was so pleased with his own progress that when Bertrand turned to the corner containing his possessions, he forgot everything he'd been told and crept up behind him, just to see if he could catch Bertrand off-guard. Leaping onto Bertrand's back was the last thing he was aware of before the searing pain in his arm and the trickle of blood running down his pale skin.

He looked up to see Bertrand staring in horror, pressed flat against the opposite wall, eyes jet black.


	8. Chapter 8

"Bertrand?" The boy was peering worriedly at him, but Bertrand couldn't tear his eyes away from the small stream of blood running down his arm. He couldn't stay here; Robin was between him and the door, so he couldn't leave either. It was all he could do to keep himself pressed against the wall, clinging to the stone in the hope that when his hunger took over, his body would be fooled into thinking it  _needed_ the wall. He pushed himself backwards, tighter against it. It was a losing battle, he knew; the best he could do was buy them some time. Time in which Robin could leave, remove temptation, find Vlad. Vlad could protect him.

"You need to get out." It was a struggle to force the words out; he was hungry, that was why he'd turned from Robin in the first place, searching for a bottle. He'd had to go without, back in Stokely; he hadn't exactly planned for the day spent in bed with the breather when he'd set out. He hadn't planned for anything, really. He'd just gone. Yes, this was good, this was a good train of thought –  _don't think about the hunger, Bertrand, think about Robin_ – but then that surprise attack had prompted the instinctive response he'd been warning his idiot about for all this time. He'd hurt Robin, and now Robin was bleeding, and his blood smelt so good-

"I can't go out there, B, the Count and Ingrid-" Bertrand let out a frustrated snarl; the boy was right, but didn't he see he was in just as much danger here? Perhaps more, because as far as he knew, the Draculas had not starved themselves for the last day, and suffered from no addictions. Robin didn't even look scared, except at the thought of leaving the room. What was wrong with him? Didn't he understand what Bertrand could do, what he was mere moments from doing?

"Bertrand, look at me." He was looking at him; he couldn't look away from the wound on his arm; superficial, where he'd scraped it against the wall or the floor, but bleeding profusely. The boy must mean his eyes; he dragged his own up to meet them with difficulty. Robin swallowed hard, as if noticing for the first time that Bertrand's eyes were blown black, but held his gaze. "You're… B, just come here." What was he thinking? He must know the danger he was putting himself in. He shook his head stubbornly even as his eyes drifted back down to settle on the drop of red liquid now beading in the crook of the boy's elbow. He hated himself for the way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. This was wrong, this was all wrong, and he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to resist.

* * *

Robin wasn't an idiot – contrary to popular belief – he knew he was in a bad situation here. He should never have crept up on Bertrand, and he certainly shouldn't be trying to tempt him closer given that he was bleeding and the vampire was clearly hungry. Come to think of it, when was the last time Bertrand had had blood? Unless he'd stopped for a drink with Vlad – and he'd hardly been gone a few minutes – he couldn't have had any in over a day. No wonder his eyes were black. And yes, Robin was dimly aware that that should have been terrifying, but he actually found it… kind of…  _sexy_. He blushed as he acknowledged that to himself, and noticed Bertrand's eyes widen slightly at the rush of blood to his cheeks. He only hoped the vampire wouldn't notice where  _else_  blood was rushing to; he crossed his legs in front of himself just to make sure.

He really didn't dare go outside, though, where Ingrid and the Count might be tempted. It wasn't as if he could realistically outrun Bertrand anyway. So instead, he held his gaze steady, aware that Bertrand wasn't really looking at him as much as at his blood, and tried to ignore the stirrings in his stomach as the vampire licked his lips.  
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have crept up on-"  
"I'm not angry. Robin, this isn't about anger. You need to leave." Well, he seemed to be capable of longer sentences now. That was progress. Still, it didn't make a lot of difference in the long run; what Robin was about to do would either save him, or kill him. There was no middle ground. It was make or break.

He held his arm out towards Bertrand, careful not to spill any blood on the floor. He'd seen the Count's reaction to spilt blood once or twice, and he didn't want to trigger any such anger in his vampire boyfriend. Bertrand bared his fangs, as if in warning.

Robin shuffled forward slightly, still holding out his wounded arm in front of him.  
"Bertrand… you can have it."

* * *

Bertrand had almost completely succumbed to the monster inside, his consciousness becoming foggy at the edges, when Robin startled him back into full awareness.  
"What?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing; the boy couldn't really be that stupid.  
"The blood. Drink it. I don't mind." It was all he could do to hold himself back; he was  _starving_ , and the blood smelt so  _good_ …  
"I can't. I'll lose control, I'll bite you… I could kill you." He wasn't entirely sure the boy didn't deserve it, for putting temptation in his way like this.  
"If you bite me, you bite me. But I trust you." Robin shrugged, almost dislodging the droplet of blood teetering at the edge of his arm. Bertrand realised he'd shot forward a few inches, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. "Just don't kill me, alright?"  
"I could turn you – Robin, get out while you can." He was straining with the effort of keeping his hands on the wall behind him, the last barrier between him and complete insanity.  
"Worse things could happen." Then Bertrand realised, with a jolt of anger, that he'd been the fool all along.

* * *

Robin saw the change in the tutor's face and for a moment, he thought that was it. This was the moment he was going to die, and it was all his own fault. But then Bertrand threw himself backwards, back against the wall, fangs bared and hissing, and Robin realised that whatever had brought on this sudden rage, the vampire was still in control of himself. Barely.

"Oh, I've been so blind." It was a snarl, which made it hard to take his next words as a compliment. "You're clever, I'll give you that." Robin blinked uncertainly; the blackness of his boyfriend's eyes made it impossible to read them, so different from his usual expressive blue.  
"What do you mean? I don't get it."  
"I should have known better. Of course you wouldn't want anything to do with  _me_ ; who would?"  
"But I do, I-"  
"No, you needed a vampire. It was the first thing I ever learnt about you, and I forgot it."

Robin really wasn't following; what had he done to trigger the bitter tone of Bertrand's voice? He didn't dare to ask, mind racing to try to work out what Bertrand had learnt about him first. It could be the last mystery he ever solved; it  _would_  be, if he was too slow. What was the first thing he'd ever told Bertrand? That his fangs were cool? No, that… that he'd never been anything but mates with Vlad. That didn't seem like any reason for this reaction. Then it had to be something Bertrand would have heard before he actually met him. Suddenly, Robin could almost  _hear_  his friend's voice, unknowingly signing his death warrant.  
_'My best friend Robin, he always wanted to be a vampire. Way more than I did.'_

"You've been using me, all this time?" Bertrand's voice was trembling, though whether with emotion or simply the struggle of holding himself back he couldn't say.  
"No! No, Bertrand, honestly-"  
"You just needed my fangs, needed someone who'd be stupid enough to get so close to your neck they could hear the blood rushing…" He could see the vampire's grip on the wall tightening, as if he was trying to dig his nails into it. "Someone you could make lose control, and now you've done it."

"Bertrand, I'm not trying to get you to bite me! I'd rather you didn't, actually-"  
"Then why would you offer-"  
"Because I trust you!" The words caught in his throat; Bertrand clearly didn't trust him in return, but he  _knew_  that if Bertrand didn't want to bite him, he could keep control. Well, he thought so. And if he did bite him… well, like he said, worse things could happen. "Bertrand, you're starving. And I'm here. And if there had actually been any blood in that corner I'm pretty sure you'd be drinking it by now."

* * *

The boy was right; he must have run out. Careless of him, but then he hadn't been taking much care of himself while Robin had been away. If he'd had blood, if there had been a bottle in front of him when he'd been attacked from behind and had lashed out – he could have drunk it by now and given Robin time to escape.  
"You really trust me?" Robin didn't move, and he continued, trying to block out the sound of the boy's pounding heart. "…I don't." He didn't trust himself, he couldn't take the risk of trusting himself with Robin, with Robin's  _blood_ … but if he held himself back for much longer it would only make the inevitable snap worse.

Infuriatingly, Robin was edging towards him again, arm outstretched.  
"I trust you." Bertrand studied him intently for a moment, pulling his gaze from the blood once again. Then he surged forwards.

* * *

Robin instinctively closed his eyes as Bertrand lurched towards him, and braced himself for the impact he knew was coming.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood.

The taste of blood was intoxicating; he'd never tasted anything so rich and delicious in all his years. The breather trapped between him and the wall whimpered, but Bertrand had never let pathetic mewling noises stop him before, and they wouldn't stop him now. His tongue flicked out to catch a stray drop, and Robin writhed underneath him. He smiled, the points of his fangs trailing over the broken skin, and continued to savour the sweet, flowing liquid. Soon, he knew, it would stop flowing, and there would be no more for him. He relished the steady trickle of warm red while it lasted.

* * *

Robin whimpered as Bertrand's lips closed, ever so gently, over the wound on his arm. The way he'd been sitting when Bertrand pounced had left him pinned to the floor, half-propped against the wall, the vampire's limbs preventing him from moving his own. He didn't want to; he knew Bertrand was  _feeding_  off of him and it was so wrong, but the sensation of Bertrand's tongue against him wasn't unpleasant, really. He squirmed a little – it tickled – but it wasn't until he felt the slight sting of Bertrand's fangs pressing against the wound that it really struck him how  _dangerous_  this was… and how exciting. He moaned slightly as Bertrand's mouth made its way carefully along the trail of blood, his grip on Robin's wrists tightening a fraction. Well, there was nothing he could do now. If Bertrand chose to drain him dry, there was no way he could stop it.

Bertrand's lips ran up his shoulder and Robin was completely prepared to feel fangs at his neck. But the vampire suddenly pulled himself backwards, scrunched his eyes tightly shut, and muttered a single word, one that sounded as if it was foreign to him.  
"Help." His eyes opened, still jet black, and he leant in again towards his neck, but Robin turned his head to intercept him. He crushed his lips against Bertrand's, the only thing he could think of that might stop him from sinking his fangs into him. Bertrand moaned, his grip tightening on Robin's wrists even further for a second before he released them, hands moving to tangle into the fabric of Robin's shirt.

Robin realised he could taste blood; his own blood. He didn't mind.


	10. Chapter 10

Robin opened his eyes to find that Bertrand's had returned to their normal state of blue, albeit a little darker than usual. He had a tiny smudge of blood at the corner of his mouth – Robin almost reached to kiss it away, but the vampire dodged backwards the moment he moved – but that didn't seem to be a good enough reason for the disgusted expression on Bertrand's face. It took Robin a while to recognise the self-loathing in Bertrand's gaze.

Then, just as he was wondering how best to convince Bertrand everything was alright, Vlad turned up. Bertrand flew backwards, propelled by some sort of invisible force, and Robin wondered if it was all really going to get  _worse_.

* * *

Bertrand stared at Robin, wondering why he hadn't pushed him away. On the contrary, he leant forward as if to kiss him again, and Bertrand scooted backwards in shock. He had given in, he could still taste Robin's blood on his tongue, he was a monster and that bothered him now in a way it never had. He remembered the experience; he remembered wanting to bite Robin –  _Robin_  – wanting to drain him dry to satisfy his own thirst. How could the boy even bear to look at him?

Vlad's appearance in the doorway was a relief; now Robin was safe. Vlad was being more careful than he'd ever been with his ability to – as he jokingly said – 'force push'; Bertrand came to rest gently against the wall and slumped there gratefully.  
"Robin. Are you OK?" He watched as the Chosen One fussed over his best friend, the breather nodding firmly before surprising both vampires again with his angry outburst.  
"I'm fine. Can you stop throwing Bertrand around?" Vlad glanced at his tutor, clearly taking in every detail of his appearance, before turning back to Robin, who was scrambling to stand up.

"He drank from you?"  
"I let him! You don't have to throw him across the room every time he so much as looks at me, you know." Bertrand's eyes widened; the boy thought he'd been attacked. Why he even cared given what had just happened, Bertrand had no idea, but it was clear that he did. Vlad was going to make no progress until Robin was reassured.  
"He didn't throw me very hard. I'm fine." Robin gave him a searching look eerily like Vlad's, and then nodded at his friend.  
"Yeah, he drank from me. I cut my arm – fell over, clumsy – and he was hungry. I told him to do it."

Vlad nodded.  
"Yes, yes, but did he bite you?" He was craning his neck to try to see Robin's, to check for himself. Robin shook his head dumbly, clearly bewildered by the Chosen One's casual acceptance of the facts.  
"Right. Bertrand, are you okay?" Vlad turned to him, holding out a hand and producing a bottle of blood from his pocket. Bertrand accepted the help in getting to his feet and took the blood gratefully; he couldn't risk being hungry around Robin again. Still, he didn't drink it. Not yet.  
"I'm… yes. Thank you for coming to my aid."

_Help,_  he'd said, reaching out to the Chosen One's mind as well as Robin, hoping that he'd make it in time. If Robin couldn't stop him – and honestly, he shouldn't have been able to, there was no way he could, and yet he  _had_ , and he wasn't even sure why he was surprised by anything his remarkable breather managed to do anymore – if Robin couldn't stop him, Vlad might arrive before it was too late. And he'd come. He'd come to save Robin, Bertrand knew, rather than the monster preying on him, but he'd come.

* * *

Robin stared at the vampires in shock. Bertrand was  _thanking_  Vlad for checking up on them, bursting in and interrupting yet another moment between them? He was thanking him for throwing him – however gently – across a room? Bertrand seemed to read his mind – maybe he actually  _had_ – and continued as if Robin had spoken aloud.  
"I wasn't sure I could stop. I knew Vlad could stop me if I needed it." He didn't make eye contact, eyes fixed on a point slightly behind Vlad's shoulder. "I called for help. It's not something I do lightly."

Robin's heart skipped a couple of beats, and both vampires flicked their eyes cautiously in his direction. He didn't really think before stumbling forwards and wrapping his arms around Bertrand; he knew how much it must have cost him to consider calling Vlad for help, to admit that he might not be able to control himself. He did, however, pause before he actually touched him, giving Bertrand fair warning that he was about to do so. This time, there was nowhere for Bertrand to draw back to, which meant Robin felt a little bad about cornering him as he finally got to kiss him.

* * *

Bertrand didn't understand; he'd just admitted that he almost lost control and drained the boy, and here he was, in his personal space, reaching out to embrace him and pull him into a kiss? He didn't bother trying to resist this time. If the boy was really that much of a glutton for punishment, if he really had taken leave of his senses enough to embrace the monster he was – and  _oh,_  Robin's tongue had just flicked out to, if Bertrand wasn't very much mistaken, lick a stray drop of blood from Bertrand's lip – then he would let him. The boy was behaving like a vampire himself, almost as if he was actually aroused by Bertrand's vampiric side – he pushed him backwards slightly, away from him, eyes snapping open as old doubts and fears flooded in. Vlad cleared his throat awkwardly in the background.

"Robin, Bertrand, look… I just wanted to apologise. I was trying to look out for you and I got a bit carried away. I swear I'm not that kid who thought mind wipes could fix anything, not anymore. And… well. I haven't promised her anything, but I had a word with Miss McCauley and she says there's room for another pupil at Garside if you wanted to… I mean, you seem like you've enjoyed it here, and…" Vlad suddenly seemed to notice the matching startled expressions on the faces of his friend and tutor, and blurted out the last of his words as fast as he could. "Well, Dad says he'll pay the fees and you can stay here, because it's worth it if you keep Bertrand out of his hair for a bit," he grimaced apologetically, "so no pressure anyway I'll leave you to talk about it."

Then he was gone, and Bertrand regarded Robin silently as he digested Vlad's offer. Then his eyes snapped back up to Bertrand's and he nodded firmly.  
"Guess we need to talk."


	11. Chapter 11

Bertrand returned the nod, slowly, steeling himself for what he knew had to be said. It seemed bizarre that it would take the threat of being stuck with Bertrand permanently to make him realise what a monster he was… but if the boy had finally seen sense then Bertrand would have to accept it. He  _would_  accept it. He just hoped his acting skills hadn't completely failed him, so Robin wouldn't see that it hurt. Trying to act casual, he lowered the bottle of blood Vlad had brought him carefully to the floor, tucking it into an alcove and out of the way.

"What you said before," Robin continued, and Bertrand winced. Really, did they have to go into the whys and wherefores? Better to just end it – they both knew why – and go on with their miserable existences. But the boy was still talking, drawing out the inevitable. "You… you called Vlad because you didn't think you could stop?"  
"I could have killed you. I almost  _did_." His tone, he knew, was far too abrupt to be even slightly conciliatory, but there was no reconciliation to be had here – he had tried to kill Robin, and Robin was ending it, and there was no point trying to convince the breather that he was a decent person given that all that would achieve was making Robin feel guilty.  
"And you asked Vlad for help. To save my life. Even though you hate breathers – Erin told me – and I  _know_  you hate asking for anything. You're amazing, you know that?"

What? This was not what Bertrand had expected. Robin reached up to trail a hand down Bertrand's cheek, the tutor's eyes closing involuntarily for a moment at the gentle touch.  
"But we need to talk about the other thing you said." The boy must have seen the confusion in his eyes. "That I didn't want you, that I wanted a vampire. Any vampire." Bertrand really, really didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to listen as Robin told him he was right.

* * *

Robin could see the defeat in Bertrand's eyes, his rigid stance betraying him as he tried to play it cool. The vampire had obviously leapt to the wrong conclusion… again.  
"You're an idiot." Well, that got his attention. "I told you before, I'm  _surrounded_  by vampires."  
"You needed one who'd b-"  
"Bite me? I'm not letting you bite me." Bertrand looked as if he didn't know whether to smile or curl up in a tiny ball and sob – the latter seemed unlikely, but Robin was sure the tutor could find an equivalent he found more palatable. What was that about? It took a moment before Bertrand noticed his questioning look.  
"You understand what that means. For… us." He was still thinking of them as an 'us', then? That was a good sign, at least.  
"B, let me finish. I'm not letting you bite me,  _now_. You don't think we're going to get enough funny looks for the next few years? If we make it that far without you getting sick of me, that is." Bertrand was frowning, about to speak, and Robin held a finger against the vampire's lips to make sure he was allowed to finish. "You're not biting me until someone looking at us together wouldn't see an age difference to complain about. Or, you know,  _report to the police_."

"But I  _am_  so much older, and so… I've done awful things, Robin, and you can't possibly-"  
"Love you anyway?" He hadn't meant to say it. It was way too soon, and besides, what was he, a little girl, now? Talking about love? Still… "Maybe I can. Give me a chance." The tutor blinked.  
"You mean that, don't you?" Robin nodded, moving closer, running his hand over Bertrand's shoulder and down his arm so he could link their hands.

"Do you want me to move schools? So we can see each other?"  
"It's your choice. Of course I'd be glad to see more of you, but you have a life in Stokely, friends…" Robin laughed out loud at that, drawing a curious look from his boyfriend.  
"I've got to tell you about Stokely Grammar some time." He glanced down at their entwined fingers, smiling at the way Bertrand was letting him hold him or, as he suspected Bertrand would see it, allowing him to temporarily impair his fighting abilities. He couldn't help smirking a little as he sneakily worked his other hand up under Bertrand's shirt, marvelling once more at the muscles he found there. Bertrand, though, caught his hand.

* * *

Robin's hand was snaking up inside Bertrand's shirt again, creeping up towards his chest, and he had to move fast to stop him. The boy looked surprised – wounded, even, for a moment – before his expression turned apologetic. Bertrand ran his hand gently through Robin's hair to reassure him.  
"My body's not… I don't let people…" He didn't know how to express his unwillingness to expose his scars to Robin without defeating the object completely by  _telling_  him about them. The boy would be disgusted either way.  
"You're worried about your scars." Bertrand's jaw dropped.

He was dimly aware of Robin's hand – the one he'd swatted away, the one not still firmly wrapped in Bertrand's own – tracing the outline of his top button.  
"You… if you want more stories, I'm not…" Robin shushed him and he stopped, stunned by the breather's audacity, and how little he minded it.  
"Your scars aren't a bad thing, B." The boy spoke with a lot of confidence for someone who'd never seen them, but there wasn't time to think about that, because Robin was suddenly very close and looking into his eyes with a sincerity Bertrand didn't think he'd seen on anyone else in a good few centuries. "Let me prove it to you."

As if to make his meaning clear, Robin undid the top button he'd been playing with and ran his finger down Bertrand's chest to the next. His throat felt more exposed than it had in a long time, and the vampire realised it was time to trust the boy the way Robin had trusted him.

He swallowed hard, and nodded.


	12. Chapter 12

Robin never took his eyes from Bertrand's as he worked his way down the buttons, determined not to miss any sign that the vampire wanted him to stop. There wasn't any such flicker of doubt in Bertrand's expression, though, just a sort of resigned acceptance to the fact that Robin was going to see the scars he'd hidden for so long, and then he was going to reject him. Robin looked down – the last button was being uncooperative, but he managed it – and pushed the shirt gently away from the vampire's torso, exposing the skin beneath.

Bertrand tensed noticeably under Robin's gaze, as he let his eyes wander slowly up from the long, thin scars on his toned stomach to the smaller ones at the bottom of his chest until they finally came to rest on the scars around his heart. Robin couldn't help gasping; he'd felt the scars there before, of course, but he hadn't realised what they meant. Looking at them, though, it was clear that these marks had been left by a stake, or stakes. They had tried to slay his Bertrand. He glanced up to find his boyfriend looking wounded, and realised how that sharp intake of breath must have sounded to the vampire. He hurried to reassure him, kissing him passionately as he let his hands continue exploring the scarred surface of Bertrand's body.

* * *

Bertrand wasn't entirely distracted by the kiss; he could still feel Robin's hands trailing over ruined flesh, stroking softly in a way that was not remotely unpleasant, but wasn't as soothing as the breather probably hoped it would be. Still, he was just beginning to relax a little, enjoying Robin's mouth on his, when suddenly the boy drew back. He opened his eyes, intending to complain, but the words never left his lips as Robin leant down and began to trail kisses down his chest, making sure to pay especial attention to the damaged tissue that tended to be left when someone tried to force a pointed piece of wood through you. He'd never really considered the idea that simply having someone's breath ghosting across his skin could actually be exciting, but he was certainly thinking about it now.

Bertrand's eyes fluttered closed again as Robin kissed his way from one scar to the next, sinking to his knees when bending down to reach his stomach became too uncomfortable. It had been so long, before Robin, since anyone had shown him any kind of genuine affection at all – he wondered, in fact, if anyone really had – and to have such attention paid to his insecurities, to making him feel good about himself, was almost overwhelming.

"Ew. If you were going to do  _that_ , you could have at least shut the door."


	13. Chapter 13

Robin leapt backwards as if burned, and Bertrand suddenly realised what the position they were in must have looked like to Ingrid as she sauntered in through the door behind Robin. He hurriedly wrapped his shirt around himself, hiding the scars, as Robin stood up and slipped an arm round him.  
"Nobody comes in here without permission!" Bertrand's bark of anger didn't have quite the desired effect.  
"Well, I thought being with the wannabe- _wimpire_  might have made you soft." She paused for a moment, regarding them both coolly. "Looks like the opposite, though."

Robin's cheeks were burning, Bertrand noted out of the corner of his eye, but he still retorted without even hesitating.  
"D'you mind? We were busy." He'd shifted his body slightly, Bertrand realised, to shield Bertrand's scars from Ingrid's eyes. He hadn't even glanced at his boyfriend, so there was no way he could know that Bertrand had already covered himself with his shirt.  
"I can see  _that_ ," Ingrid smirked, "but Vlad sent me to check if you wanted to get pizza. He's decided, in his  _infinite_  wisdom, to give Renfield the day off. So we can all take some time to let our stomachs recover. Although after  _that_  little display-" Robin nodded hurriedly.  
"Pizza, yeah, sure. When?" Ingrid laughed as she turned away.  
"Oh, a couple of hours. You can't possibly need  _that_  long, Branagh."

* * *

Robin blushed furiously again as Ingrid sauntered out, pointedly closing the door behind her. He turned back towards Bertrand, who was standing like a stone, staring at him, holding his shirt protectively across himself. He couldn't help flicking his gaze down Bertrand's body and back up again, checking him out and noticing, to his surprise, that Ingrid was right. Bertrand certainly hadn't gone soft from being around Robin. He wasn't sure, but he suspected that the way Bertrand had frozen in place had something to do with being horrifically embarrassed.

All of a sudden, Robin wasn't embarrassed any more. He had a gorgeous vampire staring at him like he was the most important thing in the room, and he obviously had a good effect on said vampire, and Ingrid clearly already thought they were getting up to no good, so it wouldn't exactly make much difference if they  _did…_  would it? But the look on Bertrand's face suggested that wasn't going to be on the cards today. Robin wasn't sure whether to be disappointed – he was a teenage boy, after all – or relieved, because he was even more clueless about that kind of thing than he was about kissing. In the end, he settled for concerned as Bertrand's shocked expression clouded over, calculations running behind his eyes.

"She came to gloat." The words had a hollow ring to them; he waited for the vampire to continue. "She hoped she'd get to see me cry. After all, Vlad would have told her what happened – I drank from a breather, it's a house rule that everyone's informed – and it was obvious that you would end it with me the moment he left the room. She'd never lower herself to come down here otherwise." Robin had heard enough; Bertrand was practically babbling, and maybe it was the most insightful babbling he'd ever heard, but it didn't say much for his boyfriend's state of mind. "She came to see me break." His heart broke at the tone of Bertrand's voice, the way he was still standing with his arms wrapped around himself, hiding his scars. Robin had to act.

* * *

Bertrand didn't even get a chance to point out that Robin  _should_  have ended things before the boy's lips were pressed against his own once more, warm hands wasting no time in clutching at Bertrand's, pulling them away from the shirt he was still holding closed. He was so startled by the sudden way Robin had taken the lead that he just let it happen, barely murmuring a protest as Robin pressed his own body tightly against Bertrand's. The boy's t-shirt had ridden up again – he doubted that was an accident, somehow – and there was a tiny sliver of warm, bare flesh pressed against Bertrand's cold, scarred skin. Robin murmured something against his lips, but even his sensitive hearing didn't quite catch what it was, perhaps because he was so distracted by the feeling of  _Robin_ , so close to him… Bertrand pulled back a fraction, wishing he didn't have to.  
"Sorry?"  
"I'm not ending it." Robin repeated, and then, blushing, "Might be thick, but I'm not stupid enough to do that."

Bertrand frowned; was he afraid of reprisals if he didn't stay with him? Was he only staying out of fear?  
"I wouldn't-" Robin didn't let him finish, pushing his shirt off of one shoulder and trailing kisses over the muscle there in a way that made Bertrand's breath catch before he could remember he didn't have any. When the boy looked up at him, half a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, Bertrand had almost forgotten he was going to speak at all.  
"I'm not stupid enough to throw away the best thing I've ever had." Bertrand blinked at him stupidly, unable to process the words into anything that made sense, and he sighed. "Us, B, we're good. You make me feel good." Robin chuckled awkwardly, pressing their bodies back together and resting his head on Bertrand's shoulder for a moment. "All kinds of good, you can probably tell."

He  _could_  tell. Robin wasn't pretending to find him attractive, at least. It was oddly reassuring; enough to make him slip his hands under the back of Robin's t-shirt and make him shiver. He smiled. He still had _some_  power in this relationship, then.

* * *

Robin shivered, but it had nothing to do with the coldness of Bertrand's hands; no, just the mere fact that they were on his bare skin was enough to send a tremor through him, regardless of temperature. Bertrand's fingers swept across his back in a gentle stroking motion and he couldn't hold back a tiny moan. The vampire chuckled, pausing in his movements.  
"We're not going to talk things through, then?" That was a stupid question, Robin thought, to come from someone as clever as Bertrand.  
"We've had this conversation. I'm not leaving you, I'm not just using you for your fangs, your scars are  _sexy_ , have I missed anything out?" He realised with a wince that he'd never actually  _mentioned_ Bertrand's scars being sexy before. Bertrand, though, didn't seem to mind.  
"And I'm not biting you." Robin shook his head.  
"No, you're not. Yet. Anyway, if you bit me now, it wouldn't be anywhere near as exciting when I got hurt, would it?" The vampire's entire expression darkened, his hands suddenly gripping at Robin's hips to hold him close and safe against Bertrand's firm body.  
"You're not going to get hurt. I'll kill anyone who tries." Robin blinked.  
"I… meant 'cos I really am clumsy. But… thanks." It was really sweet, in a weird kind of way. Bertrand wanted to protect him, and he wasn't mind-wiping him to do it.

The vampire trailed a hand down his cheek, pausing briefly before continuing the movement, fingers barely skimming the place where Robin's pulse pounded closest to the skin of his neck, and then curling his fingers into the fabric at the front of his t-shirt. Robin let him pull him in again, let his boyfriend switch their positions until it was Robin whose back was against the wall.

* * *

"Is this OK?" Bertrand had torn himself away from the breather's lips with some reluctance, but he needed to check that he didn't feel trapped, that what had happened earlier hadn't left him feeling like prey. "Do you want me to move?" Robin looked up at him with those big, dark eyes, and smiled gently.  
"I told you earlier, I trust you. Idiot." He kept calling him that. He would have to stop him talking for a while. Bertrand hid the relief he felt well as he leant in to kiss him again, but the way Robin wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him impossibly closer suggested that the boy already knew. He could get used to this.


	14. Chapter 14

"Are you sure about this, Robin?" He nodded at his Dad, grinned at his Mum, and dragged his suitcase decisively over the threshold.  
"Yeah. I've got loads more friends at Garside, and they've got a great Art programme. You'll be alright, Mum, won't you?" Mrs Branagh was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, but she nodded before leaning in to speak quietly to her son.  
"Is that him?" He glanced round to see Bertrand waiting at the gate; it had got dark while he wasn't paying attention.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Your new boyfriend, of course. You didn't think I wouldn't work it out? Mums know these things." And then, while he gaped at her in disbelief, she waved at the bemused vampire, who waved back, and continued. "Just be careful, love. But he  _looks_  nice."

They walked around the corner together and Robin stopped, waiting for Bertrand to grab him and take off for Garside. But the vampire kept walking, still carrying Robin's suitcase as if it weighed nothing, and the boy himself had to run to catch up with him.  
"We're not flying?" Bertrand shrugged easily.  
"Of course we are. But not until we're a little nearer the station, and not yet." He regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then glanced around as if to check they hadn't been followed. "First, we're going to that bus shelter." And with that, he strode off, leaving Robin to scurry after him once again.

"Why are we going to a bu-" He was cut off abruptly as Bertrand pressed him up against the clear plastic of the shelter and kissed him.  _Ah. That would explain it._

* * *

Bertrand knew he was taking a risk, kissing Robin in the street not three roads from his parents' house, but the boy had been in Stokely for the last week of summer, saying goodbye to the place and packing his things, and Bertrand had had to leave him to it. Was it any wonder that he couldn't get him back in his arms soon enough?

Robin, it seemed, had missed him too, if the way he was clutching at Bertrand's back was any indication. When the vampire finally pulled away, Robin followed him, turning them so Bertrand was trapped between the breather's body and the bus stop. Bertrand let himself be trapped, accepting that Robin wasn't quite done expressing his joy at seeing him again yet, unwise though his feelings might be. Finally, the boy stepped backwards, and Bertrand simply stooped to pick up the suitcase and wrapped Robin in his cloak.

"Come on. Let's go home."


	15. Chapter 15

_One month later_

Bertrand didn't usually dream. When he did, his sleeping musings were never pleasant. So it was a surprise, even to his slumbering mind, to feel warm hands running over his body – an idea that once would have been abhorrent to him, but now had him smiling in his sleep as artist's fingers traced the muscles of his arms where they crossed over his chest.  
"Robin," Bertrand murmured, as the warmth grew and spread to encompass the whole of his left side, as if the boy were lying next to him – his eyes flew open and he shifted slightly to find that he hadn't been dreaming at all. Robin lay next to him, outside of his shroud, looking pathetically cold and completely unrepentant.  
"Wondered how long it would take you to wake up."

Bertrand struggled out of his shroud and wrapped it around Robin, who'd sat up, while he rummaged through his possessions until he found a thick woollen blanket he'd sometimes draped over his shroud for show while sleeping rough among peasants. He held out his hand for his shroud and Robin held it out to him, no doubt waiting to be given the blanket in return, but Bertrand forgot himself for a moment, just looking. The boy was only wearing tracksuit bottoms, and Bertrand was eyeing his pale, flawless skin with undisguised longing, he knew. Robin didn't seem perturbed in the slightest, just sat there smirking until a slight shiver brought Bertrand back to awareness. He draped the blanket over his boyfriend and lay down beside him, surprised when Robin, upon lying back himself, threw the cover across him and snuggled closer.

"I'm cold, you'll get cold." Robin didn't seem to mind, nuzzling his head against Bertrand's shoulder before looking up into his eyes, suddenly anxious.  
"Is this okay?" Bertrand knew that it probably shouldn't be okay, that the boy had not only entered the training room, which was out of bounds to everyone without his permission, but also his personal space, and all while he was sleeping… but the usual rules didn't seem to apply to Robin, somehow. He simply rolled to face him and slipped an arm around his waist.  
"Yeah."

* * *

Robin didn't know what had possessed him to sneak down here and try to snuggle with Bertrand – who'd never seemed the type to handle snuggly invasions well – but he was glad he had. Bertrand, it seemed, slept just as topless as Robin himself did, no doubt safe in the knowledge that nobody would dare approach him while he was unconscious. Bertrand had made no secret of his distaste for their sleeping at night, but since he had no choice he had simply had to get on with things with a threat that if anyone disturbed his unnatural diurnal sleep pattern he would tear them limb from limb. You would have to be a complete idiot to risk that.

Robin, of course,  _knew_  he was a complete idiot. It seemed he was also fortunate enough to be the exception to the rule. Bertrand's arm around his waist was freezing, but not unpleasant, and he knew from experience that if he held Bertrand's hand for long enough, the vampire's skin warmed to match his own. He reached out to stroke the hint of stubble on the vampire's face.  
"Why are you here, Robin?" Bertrand looked apprehensive; Robin frowned.  
"I missed you."  
"You saw me a few hours ago."  
" _Hours_ , B." He kissed his cheek gently. "Too long."

"You're not – you don't expect – I'm not-" Robin really  _had_  woken him up, Bertrand was never this distracted when he was properly awake. It took him a while to work out what the vampire was trying to ask.  
"No! No, that's not what I – I just thought maybe we could sleep. Together. But not  _sleep together_ , you know what I mean… Um, right?" Bertrand smiled – he ought to do it more often, Robin thought, it really transformed his face – and kissed him, clearly relieved.  
"I understand."

Somehow, that discussion didn't stop them waking up the next morning with their legs tangled together, clutching each other tightly, Robin's head resting against Bertrand's shoulder. It was a good way to wake up, in Robin's opinion. He would have to do it more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
> (Don't worry, there's more to come in the form of 'Expectation', the next in the series.)


End file.
